


The Moon and her Lover

by fallen_timbers_pencil



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Anne loves that boy, Fluffiness, Honeymoon, Kuekuatsu, Little steamy but not really, Love, Married Life, Phillip tells a story, Romance, Storytelling, Vacation, beach, the moon and her lover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 11:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14259795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallen_timbers_pencil/pseuds/fallen_timbers_pencil
Summary: Phillip and Anne go to the shores of Newport, Rhode Island for a well deserved honeymoon and vacation. They’re hoping for a peaceful time away from home, but sometimes it’s easy to forget the ways of the world when you’re in love.





	The Moon and her Lover

**Author's Note:**

> Omg, I’m having such bad writers block and this wasn’t what I wanted it to be. 
> 
> I think I’m making it a multi chapter and having the two deal with various people in Newport, possibly putting some people in peril cause that’s always fun. 
> 
> Anyway, please give it a try and leave any suggestions for the next chapter! 
> 
> The title might be temporary.

Anne watched the fenceline pass by out the window, the farmlands rolling out like a warm green blanket. She couldn’t hide that she was nervous, her hands picking at the strings of the shawl around her shoulders. The carriage dipped and she rocked her body to match the movement, staying steady in her seat. 

Beside her, Phillip was sleeping soundly, his head bobbing gently near her shoulder. She glanced affectionately at him when a soft noise came from him. Her eyes followed the relaxed lines of his face, wishing she could sleep as easily. They’d been traveling almost three days and she’d not been able to sleep more than a few hours at a time. She couldn’t explain the tumultuous feeling in her stomach; she supposed it had to do with the fact that they were on their way to their honeymoon. 

Anne glanced again at her left hand. It was probably the hundredth time she’d done that since the modest ring had been placed on her finger. The band was a simple gold, a small diamond centered in the middle. She loved it; she didn’t need anything big and fancy like some of the women she saw on the streets of New York. She also knew that people like her didn’t always get wedding bands and considered herself lucky. Though she didn’t need a ring to show her love for the man sleeping at her side. She wasn’t surprised he got her one anyway; he was a romantic that liked to treat her when he could. She tried to insist to him that she didn’t need fancy things, but she knew he was guilty that he didn’t have an inheritance to splurge on her some day. She knew one of his fears was providing for them adequately. She couldn’t seem to shake him of it. 

She had been surprised however when Phillip had told her that they were going to go on a vacation in Rhode Island for a late honeymoon. They’d not been able to after they got married because money had been tight, but again, Anne hadn’t minded. They had rented out an apartment together and went home together to it after the ceremony. 

Phillip’s head dipped further, his cheek meeting her shoulder. She lifted one of her hands to gently stroke his hair. She turned to stare absently out the window again, recalling their wedding again with fondness. It had been a small ceremony within the circus itself. P. T. had rallied the performers to decorate with elaborate lantern hangings, reminding Anne of fireflies. The pastor was one that W. D. found, a kind hearted man who believed that their marriage was one of progression. Anne didn’t have a pretty, extravagant gown to walk the aisle in, but she wore the nicest dress she owned, an off-white thing with some pink lace at the chest and half-sleeves. She was embarrassed to appear in the old dress, but when she saw Phillip’s shining eyes she had never felt more beautiful. 

They’d celebrated afterwards at P. T.’s house, a more humble abode than his previous mansion. And after that, Phillip took her to their home, a small apartment near the docks. He’d apologized over and over again that it wasn’t big or nice, and she’d shut him up by kissing him fiercely. 

Anne smiled again to herself, humming a familiar tune under her breath. She’d never imagined herself married, let alone to a white man that was running a circus. 

She wasn’t nervous about being with her husband or that this was their first trip away, alone, together. She was more afraid of what he may be denied because of her while they were in Newport. 

While they knew exactly where they could and could not go in New York, Newport was a town they’d never been to, a town that probably never had to stop and stare at the spectacle that was their love. They didn’t know what restaurants would accept them or where they were allowed to be seen together. It was a ridiculous risk that Anne almost wished Phillip hadn’t took. 

The horses carried on as Anne pondered away inside, the fence line passing by outside the window 

 

When they finally arrived in Newport after a few hours longer of road, Phillip was awake and bright eyed, clearly eager to arrive. Anne watched as all the townhouses passed by, the carriage rocked by the cobblestone under its wheels. People crossed to and fro, some women and children, others fishermen and travelers like them. Anne didn’t focus on the them too long; she was already used to the stares and didn’t want to attract more attention to herself. 

Soon the busy town life passed them by and they headed out towards the bay. 

“I’m not looking forward to the trip home,” Anne muttered, ready to get out and stretch her stiff limbs. Of course they’d been able to stop and take breaks and eat and the sort, but she was used to always moving. This three day carriage ride hadn’t been luxurious, despite the comfy seats and blankets. 

Phillip turned his eyes to her. “Anne, you aren’t supposed to think about going home when you’re on vacation.” He admonished her teasingly. Then he leaned towards her window, pointing with a finger. “Look. There’s the inn.” 

Anne turned to peer out her window, feeling Phillip beside her. The crowded little town had dissipated into a quaint little countryside on the bay. A massive building stood on the edge of the beach, overlooking the ocean. It was beautiful, the sunset hitting the single turret that stood out against the sky. The ocean was as vast as she remembered from their trip to England and she couldn’t help the gasp of awe that escaped her.

Phillip pressed a kiss to her temple as the carriage slowed. “It’s alright then?”

Anne swatted his chest gently, a scoff rising within her. “It’s more than enough, Phillip. This. . . this is gorgeous.”  
Phillip smiled softly at her, excitement shining in his bright eyes. “Let’s go.”

The inside was extraordinary and cozy, a large fireplace lit with flickering flames that warmed Anne down to her bones. Chandeliers adorned the ceiling and sconces brightened the hallways. The owner of the house conversed with Phillip as Anne wandered to the windows overlooking the ocean. The light was fading, the horizon already dark as the sun set opposite the house, towards the west. 

The waves crashed against the sand and rocks below the cliffs and Anne wondered what it would be like to swim against the warm summer tide, feeling sand under her toes, salty wind in her face. The ocean was always a fond story of their mother’s, a notion that couldn’t possibly exist to young children who had only ever seen waves of grain or the muddy banks of the Mississippi. 

“Anne,” Phillip called, standing at the head of a corridor that stemmed from the main living room. 

She gave the ocean one last longing look before trailing after him. The halls were long and spacious, great wooden doors hiding other tenants and visitors. Phillip continued down the hall confidentially, hauling their luggage along. “Don’t you want me to carry something?” She asked again. 

Phillip waved a hand over his shoulder, pausing at a door at the end of the hallway. “Nope. We’re here.” 

Anne stepped inside and smiled. A soft-looking bed greeted her sight, some dressers and nightstands lining the walls. A large window looking out over the ocean was at the far wall and Anne bounded over, gazing out at what she catch in the fading sunlight. 

Phillip tossed their luggage down and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle, his chest pressed to her back. His jaw brushed against her temple. “Quite the view, hmm?” 

Anne turned on her heels, her nose aligning almost perfectly with her husband's. She wrapped her hands around his neck, pressing her body close to his. His blue eyes seared a path across her face, following the lines of her features like a caress. Then they briefly flicked past her to the water. 

“Have you ever swam in the ocean before?” He asked with a mischievous quirk of his lips. 

 

They ran down to the edge of the water, her hand in his, both giggling madly. She was lucky she’d thought to pack her rehearsal clothes. The wind whipped and pulled at her hair, the salt creating a frizzy mess of it. Her feet were bare, skimming across the sand as she ran towards the ocean. 

Phillip let go of her hand as she sprinted ahead of him. She turned to face him, running backwards for a short distance. She’d never seen him in a swimsuit. Granted, it wasn’t a traditional suit that most men probably wore. While many men wore the shorts with the skin tight shirt, Phillip had stated that he preferred to swim without the constricting undershirt. She believed it had to do with his scars. He claimed that they itched sometimes or were uncomfortable when he wore tight clothing. 

She hoped nobody saw them or they’d think them mad. Her, a black woman practically wearing her nightwear into the ocean and her white husband following, with his shorts and scarred, bare chest. 

Then again, she hoped they did see just for the thought of it. 

She laughed loudly when she finally reached the shallows, kicking water up and wiggling her toes in the sand. Phillip continued past her, wading further into the Atlantic until the water reached his waistline. “I haven’t been in the ocean in years, Anne.” He exclaimed, mirth in his eyes. 

Anne waded out to meet him, slightly hesitant with how deep the sand pulled her. But she managed to gracefully make it to him, admiring the way the rising moon reflected on the calm waters by dragging her fingertips across the surface. 

When she reached her husband, he smiled down at her before glancing towards the open sky. The stars were coming out, shining brightly over them. 

She followed his gaze, tracing the constellations with her eyes when suddenly her legs were swept out from under her and she plunged into the salty water. Spluttering, she swam up and wiped at her eyes. Phillip rose up beside her, a smirk on his face. She slapped a hand in the water and splashed him.

Anne felt his hands slide around her waist, gripping her tightly. She laughed, throwing her head back. He kissed her jawline, and she kissed his cheeks, tasting salty ocean water on her lips. Together they tread water, both hanging tightly onto the other one. 

The moon had risen, bright and round, watching them like a mother watched children. It gave off a cold glow that cast a silvery shine onto the waves. Phillip nuzzled softly against her cheek before jerking his chin towards the moon. 

“Have you ever heard the story of the moon and her lover?” 

Anne pressed her cheek against his, looking over his shoulder at the never ending expanse of water. The sea rocked them gently, like a mother soothing a child. She hummed in his ear, running a hand up his shoulder. 

“The moon and her lover hmm? I have to say, I’ve not had the privilege of hearing that one.” She answered, closing her eyes. 

Phillip’s deep voice tumbled against her own ear as he spoke. “Well,” he used the water to push them where they could touch, then held onto her tighter. They spun slowly, as if dancing. “The moon had a lover and they would wander the skies together. They loved each other so much, but there was another who wanted the moon to himself. So much that he told her lover that the moon wanted flowers and showed him a field full of them, on earth.” 

Anne listened, eyes still closed and feeling safe in his arms. She chuckled a little at his story, but was fully focused on it, surprised that he knew what sounded like a legend to her. 

“So, the lover took the shape of a wolf, went to the field and collected dozens of flowers for the moon. But he forgot that once you leave the skies, you can’t ever come back.” Phillip’s voice grew softer. “And every night he looks up into the sky and cries to her. But he can never hold her again.” 

Anne felt a twist her in her heart. The story was true obviously, but it brought grief to her. She pulled away from the crook of his neck to rest her forehead against his. His eyes were gentle, lips parted as if he were going to say more. “Where’d you ever learn a sad story like that?”

Phillip’s hands were splayed across her waist where her top met her shorts, but she could still feel his touch like a fire. “When I was young, we had a maid from Canada who told me that story. I always believed it was amazing learning why wolves howled at the moon,” He met her eyes, which were hard to read in the moonlight. “Now, I can understand how sad it is.” 

Anne shifted her hands till they were cradling his face. “Maybe you should rewrite it. Give it another ending.” She mended, before leaning in to place a tender kiss on his lips. 

He smiled when she pulled away. “Maybe. I think I’d much prefer to write our own story.” 

He ducked to meet her lips again, which she responded to enthusiastically. Her long legs were tangled with his beneath the water and his arms were lazily gripping her waist again, pulling her as close as they could get. The only sounds surrounding them was the crash of waves on shore and their muffled breaths they snuck between kisses. 

Anne tangled her hands in his wet hair and was filled with intense heat in her chest and belly as Phillip kissed her. She never imagined loving anyone this much in this way. Perhaps she had been nervous arriving here. She would be again when daylight came, when they would have to be among people who didn’t understand. 

But right now, enveloped in Phillip’s arms as they were rocked gently by the ocean and bathed in moonlight, she’d never felt more at ease or safe. She never wanted to leave this moment, lost in the feel of his lips against hers. But air was essential and he drew back for a moment. 

“Perhaps we should head back.” 

Anne struggled to control her breathing and raised her head a little, her nose brushing his. “Sounds good to me, lover.” Her voice was teasing, but raspy with passion. 

And the moon smiled down at them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Please leave suggestions for the next chapter or a new story, I love having them. 
> 
> Also, did anyone recognize the story Phillip told? ;)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Howl of a Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14288997) by [GreenPhoenix3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenPhoenix3/pseuds/GreenPhoenix3)




End file.
